


raining blood

by palmsxieri



Series: dream angst [3]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood Vines | The Crimson | The Egg, Corruption, Hurt Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrid Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Possession, Prisoner Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), i’d say i’m a dream apologist but just read the fic, kind of stockholm syndrome but... modified if that makes sense, mans got voices in his head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29892498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palmsxieri/pseuds/palmsxieri
Summary: He was a source of power, and therefore a bounty that met no match. But, the voices wouldn’t kill him. They couldn’t.Besides, what use was he to them if he was dead?(or: the egg seeks a new victim - who better than the admin?)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Darryl Noveschosch, Clay | Dream & Sam | Awesamdude
Series: dream angst [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087385
Comments: 5
Kudos: 191





	raining blood

**Author's Note:**

> heed the warning - graphic violence and self harm ahead.
> 
> title and lyrics are from _raining blood_ by slayer.

He lay on the rough ground, jagged edges piercing his back and shoulders. It dug uncomfortably when he shifted but he paid no mind, head elsewhere and eyes trained carefully on the ceiling. The hooks of the voices gripped his skin with force, pushing and prodding for him to join their cause. Vines curled irately at his resistance, cracking the obsidian walls with tendrils that could easily tear a human in half. Fortunately for him, he wasn’t human. 

He didn’t know what he was, and he wasn’t going to find out any time soon, by the looks of it. If it was any indication, the streaks of red that snaked up his arms like veins were a dead giveaway. The dark, powerful wings that thrummed softly didn’t do much to help either. He was a source of power, and therefore a bounty that met no match. But, the voices wouldn’t kill him. They couldn’t.

Besides, what use was he to them if he was dead? 

_Trapped in purgatory_

_A lifeless object, alive_

He didn’t bother hiding his wings or marks when Sam did his weekly - monthly? - checkup. There wasn’t a point in hiding now that he was trapped in a box. What was he going to do, fly out secretly? 

It was bypassed pretty quickly and he had to mask the disappointment that flashed on his face - he longed for the rough callouses that grazed his skin as he was beaten and bloodied, the agony that burned deep in his core as cold glass slid across his skin, tearing into flesh so easily that he couldn’t look away. The sweet pressure that bubbled at the copper that touched the tip of his tongue and wafted the air, the soot that gathered at the bottom of his lungs and tickled his nose. He missed _feeling._

He longed for Sam to pull out his dagger and trace the marks on his arms and make them truly red, to have the cold metal pull at his skin until it broke. He wanted the warden to grab at his wings and pull until the muscle started to tear at the root, to feel that white-hot burn zip up his spine. He wanted for hands to grab at the thin bone and twist until they snapped, to be able to feel the jolt of pain at the site of the break for _weeks._

Instead, Sam walked right up to the vines and sliced them clean, leaving small stubs to shrivel and fall to the floor. He whirled and tossed them in the lava, stopping short right in front of Dream. For a moment, he felt the familiar rush as the man inched closer to him. 

Much to his disappointment, the warden plucked one feather and took his leave.

_Awaiting reprisal_

_Death will be their acquittance_

The voices didn’t stop whispering at him, settling just behind his ear and tickling at the patch of skin there. The obsidian didn’t change, still jutting into skin that didn’t heal properly, reopening past and fresh scars, destroying skin. The lava bubbled and landed on his arm, creating a ring of burnt, irritated flesh. He watched with disinterest as it bubbled and turned an ugly shade of red, sparks of pain shooting up to his head. 

His wings twitched and dragged against the floor, a few feathers falling out and settling. 

The lava spilled over the floor for a second before retreating, and Sam stepped in. He didn’t bother standing, only cast his gaze in the general direction of the warden. He shut his eyes when dark boots obscured his view, oblivious to the eyes that were trained on his face, filled with anger, pity, and hatred. 

Sam brought his fist down on his face with a crack and finally, _finally,_ the void in his chest was filled as blood dripped down his nose and into his mouth, copper liquid coating his throat. 

Disappointment settled deep within him once more as he sliced away at more vines, this time having inched closer, just barely grazing his fingertips. The contact kept him rooted (literally) to the ground, offering a change of scenery that brought a sense of twisted comfort. 

His stomach churned as Sam walked out with an armful of wilted vines, lava once more obstructing his view.

_The sky is turning red_

_Return to power draws near_

The next time that his eyes opened, he was met with the sight of a demon in a black hoodie, white eyes staring him down. He tried to dig into his memories to figure out who it was, to no prevail; their soulless gaze bore right through him. The vines began pushing through the cracks once more, this time more prominent. His body still lay motionless, wings twitching subconsciously. 

The demon started talking to him (at him) in long, drawled out sentences - something about an egg that was changing the SMP for the better, blah blah blah - but he remained focus on the steady drip of the crying obsidian, nose wrinkling when a drop landed on his face. 

He tuned in more when the voices started joining the demon’s, like an echo of his words. The voices spoke backwards, the words being spoken to him distorted and cut short. It sliced through his head like a freshly sharpened blade and he welcomed the steady thrum with open arms. 

The demon lost interest quickly in a subject that wouldn’t bother batting an eye and left, lava trailing after him. 

The vines continued to elongate, this time inching toward his wings. The tips stroked gently at the feathers and he found himself leaning into the touch. 

The voices whispered to him, nothing but praise, telling him he did well, that he’s been good. His vision blurred once more. 

_Fall into me, the sky's crimson tears_

_Abolish the rules made of stone_

Somewhere far, far away, a new seed rooted itself deep in the earth, the radicles slowly making their way through thick soil. The ground quickly grew sour, turning a sickly grey color and drying up, only feeding the seed. Red roots shot to the surface and spread over the exposed dirt. 

Deep in his core, he felt the seed pulsing with life, slowly filling a pit in his stomach. Its energy coursed through his veins, making him tremble slightly. The marks on his arms trailed up his neck and stopped just short of his jawline, feeling like a brand. He relished in the burn it left. 

The voices grew louder, pouring molten metal in his head and solidifying it immediately after. 

_Pierced from below, souls of my treacherous past_

_Betrayed by many, now ornaments dripping above_

Familiar faces danced in his mind, almost like little plays that were being performed. Flashes of children, one with a bandana far too big, another with goggles that kept slipping down their nose and a third that looked suspiciously like the demon who visited him… whenever he was visited. 

The children danced around each other, giggling and laughing, playing in a sea of red. Upon a closer glance, he could see that they were covered in blood, eyes black and teeth stained. He watched motionlessly as they split a circular mask down the middle and discarded it carelessly to the side.

The play faded out to a new scene, this time with a tall brunette and two blonde children laughing in a crater, chunks of flesh and bone missing from their bodies. The blood spilled out of their wounds and onto the floor in puddles, masking the cold stone. The air around him sparked to life, bringing energy into his lungs that nestled beside the ash. 

The play crumbled to nothing as the lava wall once again retreated, revealing the warden’s glowing armor. The footsteps echoed in the room as he sliced away at more vines, roughly untangling them from his wings. The markings on his body burned as the vines withered away.

Black spots danced in his vision as the warden shouted at him, words nothing but a harsh hum underneath the chorus of voices that plagued his mind. A kick to the ribs sent shivers down his spine in anticipation as the footsteps retreated. 

Praises whispered in his ear and placed a blanket of warmth around him, relaxing his overworked mind. 

_Awaiting the hour of reprisal_

_Your time slips away_

The vines came back quicker than ever, quickly wrapping themselves around his arms and legs. His wings curled around his body, almost placing him in a cocoon. The voices reduced to a murmur, praise quiet but still there, pumping life into his withering body. They stroked his cheek and brushed hair out of his face, providing comfort that he convinced himself he didn’t deserve. It felt so much like _home_ that he wilted into the touch, silently allowing his body to become one with the ground. 

And, far from the cell, a demon and a cat had gotten exactly what they wanted.

_Raining blood_

_From a lacerated sky_

The warden stormed into the room and yanked out a communicator, furiously typing out a message. The vines almost completely encompassed him, tightening protectively when something got too close. His mind was blissfully quiet, gentle white noise filling the air. The ping that alerted the server didn’t make it through the deadly calm. The warden tried desperately to slice through the vines but flinched back when a particularly strong resistance sliced through one of his arms, sending him scrambling back. A hand flew to cover the wound and he ran out of the cell, not bothering to shut the lava gate.

_Bleeding its horror_

_Creating my structure_

New tendrils that had rooted from the floor twitched with interest and curled toward him, bypassing the ones that stretched around his limbs tightly. They slowly wrapped around his throat, the weight gentle but firm, almost like a collar. 

He smiled for the first time in what felt like forever, and a red-stained tear fell slowly down his face. 

The vines tightened abruptly, crushing his esophagus.

_Now, I shall reign in blood_

**Author's Note:**

> whoops :D
> 
> i dunno what dream is either. kinda just went with it. 
> 
> nope not forgetting about phantom limb, i just don’t wanna burn out for that so i’m taking a quick break. 
> 
> feedback is appreciated :D


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